Haeri smoothes down her graduation gown in the full standing mirror in front of her. She can't help but let out a sigh as her mother comes up behind her and stands next to her quietly.

"Difficult year?"

"You bet," Haeri returns dryly. Her mom pats her shoulder sympathetically and then places Haeri's graduation cap on her head.

"It's about time this year ended," her mother says. "Look at you, all beautiful and grown up. I can't believe it."

"Mom, stop," Haeri laughs. "You're going to make me cry even more."

"We can't have that, can we?" she answers with a smile, though Haeri detects some wetness in her mother's eyes. "I'm proud," she says after a lapse.

"As am I," Haeri's father calls out as he comes up the stairs. The three of them stand next to each other and look in the mirror. "I'm not sure I can even recognize myself anymore," Haeri says pensively. "And I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

"You will always be our Haeri to us," her father firmly.

It's time to go. The family heads down the stairs and out the door. Even though there's still the whole summer left to spend here at home, Haeri feels a sense of finality when she steps out the door. The drive to school is mostly quiet, with Haeri's parents throwing in some quiet remarks here and there. As the near the front entrance and the line of graduates comes into view, Haeri feels her stomach clench.

Her father, as if sensing this, is quick to catch on. "Don't be nervous about the speech. It's nothing, right? One last homework assignment."

"Thanks, dad," Haeri chuckles. "I'll try to remember that when I'm up there."

"You'll do wonderfully," her mom is quick to chime in. "Even if you never let us hear it a single time, I still know nobody else could do a better job." Haeri rolls her eyes.

"Your faith in me is astounding."

"As it should be," her mom replies affectionately as the car pulls into a parking spot. Haeri bids her parents a quick goodbye before they part ways: Haeri to her classmates, and they to the line of parents filing into the football stadium, where the ceremony will take place. As Haeri walks slowly over, she feels undeniable apprehension coursing through her. Being valedictorian is a great honor, she knows that. But who really wants to give a speech in front of the whole school? She groans at herself. Should have just aimed for salutatorian. Ugh.

She's been practicing her speech several times a day. It's a bit cliched, in her opinion, but also in her opinion there is no way graduation speeches can't be at least a little cliched, so she's okay with that. She gets in her designated spot in line behind several boys and smoothes down her robe again, hands perspiring. The line grows longer and longer until finally it's time for the ceremony to start and they are filing into the stadium proudly. The school band plays Pomp and Circumstance as they walk down the row of chairs. Friends and parents cheer and take pictures. Haeri strains to remember everything from rehearsal, which was a distant week ago. Is that her row? That?

No, no! she reprimands herself. You're going straight to the front, right? Pull yourself together. One more hour, and you're done with this school.

Her line splits off into a row of chairs and she continues walking until she's at the edge of the stage with its small fake palm trees lined up neatly. The podium, empty, awaits her. She takes her own seat on stage, conscious of the eyes on her, and folds her hands together. Once everyone is seated, first comes a speech from the principal. Haeri can't focus, and finds that she remembers nothing of his speech, only a blur of sounds and then applause at the end. And then:

"Now please welcome this year's valedictorian, Lee Haeri!"

It's time.

Haeri shakes the principal's hand as she moves to the podium, hoping she isn't sweating nearly as much as she feels she is. She looks around at the sea of people seated in front of him: her classmates, the teachers, the parents. They look up at her with an expectation that she will deliver the typical graduation speech to them. They expect to laugh at bad jokes, relieve their high school lives, and maybe, just maybe, tear up a little. Haeri knows that by no means will she disappoint them. But she also knows that even those her speech isn’t shockingly different, she’s proud to be the one to deliver it, because it’s true. And really, that’s what matters.

All eyes are on her. She takes a deep breath, and begins.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we? From short, scared freshmen getting lost, to sophomores who thought they were hotshots, to stressed juniors trying to get decent grades, and finally to seniors, which in a way is the scariest of all. Some things haven’t changed at all; I still get lost trying to find my classes, and there are times, during class, when I’m not sure what to expect at all. In other ways, though, everything is different.

“When I was younger, the only I wanted was to grow up fast, so I could be independent and have the freedom that everybody else seemed to enjoy. I’m older, now, and I’ve realized that I’m still waiting for that magical moment. I’ve realized that this fall, I will be heading off to college and getting a taste of the freedom I’ve wanted for so long. And now that I’ve grown up, the only thing I want is to not have that independence. Independence comes with a price: responsibility. I never thought as a kid that it would be so hard being an adult, but it is harder than anything I have known. To have the knowledge that I am in control of my own life, that I must make my own decisions, that my parents cannot always be there to fix my mistakes... that scares me. The magical moment will never happen because, well, it’s not real. It comes with so many burdens. And sometimes, I wonder if I will be able to shoulder those burdens.

“As we all split up and end up in different parts of the world, I know some of us will be thrilled to get a new start, to leave behind bullies, enemies, and the old reputations that have been with us since elementary school. We are going to become new people and discover who we really are, and what we want to do. In a way, we’ve been preparing for this all along by choosing our majors, experimenting in different classes. But it hasn’t really been put to the test until now.

"In the end, we aren’t all that different. This class, our class, we are breaking out into the world, and some of us will leave a mark, and some of us won’t. And that’s okay. The world is big.

“What I really wanted to say, and what I hope you will all keep with you in the months to come, is not to be afraid. Conquering obstacles, or finding ways around them: that is what makes life worth living. We always complain about stress, about our problems, but if we didn’t have any, how boring would life be? I can’t say I speak for everyone here, but I can guess that I speak for a large majority.

“I will miss you all. There were times when I hated some of you with a passion, and there were times when I never wanted to let some of you go. But that’s what growing up is about, right? Letting go, and being strong. And I can’t believe, even now, how much we’ve all grown.

“So, to my class, I’d like to end with a final message. It’s been an honor giving this speech today, but more than anything, it’s been an honor to be in this class, to have experienced ups and downs with each and every person, and to know that whoever I am in the future, whatever happens in the future, I was part of these four years of high school with you all, and that is something that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

“Remember that when something goes wrong, you get stronger...

“And remember: you were born to do this.”

With her last words, Haeri feels as if she's floating away. She hardly hears the thundering of applause she's greeted by, or the words of thanks from the students spoken to her as she steps off the stage and moves down the aisle to her assigned seat. As she settles down, the boys next to her high five her.

The rest is a blur. Looking back on it, Haeri hardly remembers anything after that moment: not taking pictures, nor being greeted by her ecstatic parents, nor saying her goodbyes to her teachers. She only really recalls her hollow relief that it's over, it's finally over, and the overwhelming bittersweet feeling that overtakes her from time to time.

I'm still sad about everything, she realizes distantly. But I'm determined to put everything behind me.

It's time to grow up.

It's time to go to college.

...

It's time to start over.